Love Me Too Much
by ArwendeImladris
Summary: Jim starts to get the feeling that someone is watching him, but he brushes it off. He's Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S Enterprise, after all - he can handle one little stalker by himself. But what happens when the problem escalates..?
1. Chapter 1 of 3

Title: Love Me Too Much  
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and I do not make any money from these fictions.  
Rating: M  
Summary: Jim starts to get the feeling that someone is watching his every move – but he brushes it off. He's Captain James T. Kirk, after all – he can take care of himself. But then things start to escalate…

*****

"And then he was like - 'nacho cheese!'" Jim finished, and Chekov giggled at the punch-line to his captain's joke.

"Are you telling that joke again, kid?" Bones grouched as he puts his tray down on the mess hall table, loading Jim's plate with vegetables and fruit before beginning to eat his own dinner.

Jim pouted at his best friend.

"What? It's funny?" the captain protested. "Chekov thought it was funny – didn't you, Chekov?"

The Russians eyes opened wide, and he nodded exuberantly.

Jim smirked at the doctor, who just scoffed.

"I thought it was a very funny joke, sir!" a deep voice interrupted.

Jim looked up, and up, and up to see a tall, large man with dark hair and dark brown eyes in a red uniform.

"Thank you..?" Jim trailed off, trying to place his crew-member's face. He tried to know all of his crew by name, but there had recently been some transfers so he had to work on a few.

"Ensign Robert Samuels, Captain," the man introduced. "I was transferred onto the Enterprise during the last dock."

Jim nodded, smiling.

"Well, I'm glad that they are sending me people with some sense of humor," he replied, sneaking a mischievous look at Bones.

"Yes, sir," Ensign Samuels replied, still standing there awkwardly.

Jim blinked, waiting for the man to leave.

"Dismissed?" he ventured, half-uncertainly and half-authoritatively.

He hated acting like the captain during dinner - he was off-duty - but the new transfers had not yet gotten used to his style of command.

"Yes, sir," the ensign replied, walking around the table and heading towards another where a group of red-shirts were eating.

"Huh," Jim mumbled. "That was kind of strange, wasn't it?"

Chekov and McCoy gave him weird looks.

"I just - he just gives me a bad feeling," Jim tried to explain awkwardly.

The two rolled their eyes, before returning to their meals and joking around.

Jim just couldn't shake that bad feeling, though.

*****

Jim played chess in the rec room with Spock every Tuesday at 1900 hours. Sometimes he won, sometimes Spock won - it was actually pretty even. But Jim didn't really keep track, and he doubted that Spock put any real effort into keeping score, either.

So one Tuesday night, when Spock tipped over his king in surrender, Jim was surprised when Ensign Samuels came up to congratulate him on his "3rd win since I've come aboard, sir. That's best out of 5, for you!"

Jim mumbled something vaguely modest, and watched the large ensign walk away.

"Something seems to be upsetting you, Captain," Spock observed calmly as he packed away the chess set.

"I...something about that ensign just seems...off," Jim murmured softly. "He's keeping score."

"Do you not do the same, Captain? It would be in accordance with your competitive nature, sir," Spock stated.

Jim smiled at his First Officer fondly.

"I don't keep track - we play for fun," he replied. "But Ensign Samuels congratulated me on winning three of the last five games we've played. So either he's been here for every game, or he's asked around to see if I've won."

Spock blinked at him.

"Captain, the results of our chess matches are discussed amongst the crew, and the rec room is available to all off-duty crewmembers," the Vulcan explained.

Jim forced himself to give a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm probably just being paranoid," he muttered.

*****

Sometimes Jim fenced with Sulu in the training room. Jim didn't know much about fencing, but Sulu was a patient teacher, and it was a way to work off aggressions without brawling or fucking around - neither of which was fitting behavior for the captain of the Federation's flagship.

"Great work-out tonight," Jim praised his helmsman as they stepped into the showers to rinse off.

"Likewise, Captain," Sulu replied.

The blonde gave a little laugh.

"Are you channeling Mr. Spock tonight, Sulu?" Jim asked fondly. "We're off duty - call me Jim."

"Yes, sir," Sulu replied, smirking.

Jim huffed, stepping forward and letting the sonic jets clean him of sweat.

On their way out, Jim frowned.

"Do you see my towel, Sulu?" he asked, looking near his gym bag.

He liked to have a small towel on hand to wipe the sweat from his hands and face during breaks, but it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"No, sir," the helmsman replied. "Maintentance probably brought it to laundry."

Jim nodded, but he couldn't dismiss the niggling feeling in the back of his mind.

Something wasn't right.

*****

Jim sauntered into engineering, bottle clutched loosely in his hand. He sprawled on a chair in Scotty's office, waiting for his chief engineer to finish up and join him.

"How cannae help you, Capt'n?" the engineer asked brightly as he walked into the office, wiping the grease from his hands as he approached his deck.

"I just wanted to thank you for the whiskey, Scotty," Jim replied. "And ask if you wanted to have a glass with me."

"Whiskey, sir?" the man asked with a small frown. "I havnae giv'n ya whiskey fer weeks."

Jim blinked.

"But...this bottle was on my desk in the ready room when I came in for gamma shift this morning. No note or anything. I figured it was from your still - the bottle's unlabeled and looks like its yours," Jim stated, showing his engineer the bottle.

Scotty frowned, taking the bottle into his hands and looking at the underside.

"It's from ma still, Cap'n. But I didnae put it in your room," Scotty replied.

"Oh," Jim muttered to himself. "Maybe Bones? I guess I could ask him. I don't know why he wouldn't just give it to me himself, though. And no note or anything."

"Cap'n..." Scotty began, handing the bottle back. "I wouldna drink it if you dunno who gave it to ya. The seal's brok'n."

Jim nodded seriously, taking the bottle back and standing up.

"I'm going to go talk to Bones. Poker on Monday?" he asked his engineer.

Scotty nodded, and his captain turned and exited engineering.

"Keenser, get down!" he shouted as he spotted his little green friend sitting on the shelves. "You didna give the cap'n the whiskey, didja?"

The green alien shook his head in the negative and shrugged.

Scotty frowned, concerned.

*****

"Hey, Bones," Jim greeted as he walked into sickbay.

The doctor looked up from his padd, and the retort died on his lips as he took in his smiling friend.

The smile seemed forced - something was wrong. Jim pouted when he didn't get his way - he only forced a smile like that when something was really bothering him.

"What's wrong, kid?" Bones asked.

Jim sighed, hoisting himself up on one of the biobeds and showing Bones the bottle of whiskey.

"Did you leave this in my ready room before alpha shift this morning?" he asked his friend.

"I'm a doctor, not your chief engineer," Bones replied.

Jim let out a little chuckle, but even that seemed forced.

"What's wrong, Jim?" the doctor asked seriously, taking the bottle from Jim's hands when the captain pushed it towards him.

"That was left in my ready room this morning - no note, just like that. I figured Scotty left it, but he said he didn't. I hoped that maybe you did - I can't imagine who else would have without a note. And the seal's broken, but it doesn't seem as if any of the liquor is gone," Jim explained.

Bones looked down - and sure enough, the seal was broken.

"You're not going to drink it, are you?" he asked his friend.

Jim glared at him.

"I'm not stupid, Bones. I don't know who it's from and the seal's broken. For all I know it could be poisoned," Jim huffed.

Bones nodded, setting the bottle on his desk.

"That's smart of you, Jim," the doctor stated. "Now get out of my infirmary so I can finish some of these logs. I need to request a shit load more hyposprays, the way you get into trouble."

Jim pouted all the way out of sickbay, protesting the requisition of more hyposprays.

Bones waited until his best friend was out of sight, and then he turned to the bottle on his desk.

Maybe he was being a little overprotective - but he was going to ask Spock to analyze the liquid for anything unusual.

He wanted to know if it was a poisoned bottle of whiskey or just a gift from a secret admirer.

*****

Bones walked into science, heading toward the senior officer.

"Spock," he greeted the Vulcan tensely. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

The Vulcan turned to him, opening his mouth to reply.

"And before you say anything, it's really for the captain. I need you to analyze this liquid," Bones continued, shoving the bottle toward the First Officer.

Spock blinked, looking down to the bottle in his hands.

"It appears to be some variety of liquor - more specifically, whiskey. I would have thought you to recognize it, Doctor McCoy," the Vulcan replied dryly.

This got him a glare in return.

"It was left on Jim's desk in the ready room - no note, unsealed. It's not from Scotty, and it's not from me. I want to know if it's been tampered with," Bones explained tensely.

The Vulcan nodded, placing the bottle down on the counter to finish his current experiment at a feasible stopping point.

"I will examine it immediately, doctor," Spock stated. "Given the captain's penchant for recklessness, it is unusual that he did not imbibe the liquid."

"He's not stupid, Spock," Bones glared. "And Jim may be reckless, but he's not going to drink from an unlabeled, unsealed bottle just left for him for find, without an accompanying note or identification."

The Vulcan nodded, pouring the liquid into several test tubes and performing various tests. His posture noticeably tensed when the liquid turned bright blue upon the addition of a certain compound.

"What's wrong?" Bones demanded.

"The liquid has been tampered with," Spock replied, voice tight.

His tone was the human equivalent of an angry shout.

"With what?" the doctor asked impatiently.

"Gamma hydroxy butyrate," Spock answered.

"Fuck," the doctor swore. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

For once, Spock did not comment on his language.

"It seems that whoever gifted the captain with this bottle wished to incapacitate him," Spock commented stiffly.

Bones stopped swearing for a second for glare at him.

"Do you know what GHB does?" he questioned angrily.

"Gamma hydroxy butyrate acts as an anesthesia on the central nervous system of humans," Spock replied.

"And in low doses, can cause such effects as drowsiness, nausea, and hallucinations - at least for most people. With Jim's sensitive constitution, even a low dose would probably cause seizures and respiratory distress at best, and a coma or death at worst. Was it a low dose?" the doctor asked angrily.

"Not in any sense of the word, doctor," the First Officer replied, anger apparent at the thought of a threat to their captain and friend.

"So some fucker wants Jim so bad that he'll drug him for it, regardless of the consequences," Bones ranted, going off about fuckers and shitheads and stalkers and rapists...

"Doctor," Spock interrupted stiffly. "I do not understand what you are implying."

Bones looked at him incomprehendingly for a moment.

"Spock..." the doctor trailed off. "Whoever this person was, he didn't give Jim a bottle of whiskey full of GHB just for the side effects - which can include death. GHB is traditionally used to drug someone before raping them. And whoever it was - he knew enough to know that Jim probably wouldn't be suspicious of an unlabeled whiskey bottle in his ready room. If the bottle hadn't been unsealed, and if Jim hadn't had the foresight to ask and make sure it was from Scotty..."

Spock looked at the doctor uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"The source of this poisoned liquor wished to intoxicate Jim for the purpose of copulating against his wishes?" the Vulcan asked tensely.

For once, Bones did not comment on Spock's stiff vocabulary.

"Exactly - and if Jim died in the attempt, well...obviously this person didn't care. Maybe they even wanted that. But if all they wanted was Jim dead, GHB wouldn't be the drug used. There are far more efficient and less easily detectible poisons than that - Jim probably would have been able to tell that the drink had been tampered with. It would have tasted saltier than regular whiskey," Bones explained.

"But Mr. Scott is known to experiment," Spock pointed out.

Bones clenched his jaw grimly.

"And I'm afraid that whoever gave this bottle to Jim knew that, too," Bones gritted out. "We're going to have to be on the look-out."

The Vulcan nodded tensely.

They would protect their captain.


	2. Chapter 2 of 3

A few days later...

Jim walked into his room, slipping a little bit as something slid out from under him. He caught himself against the door, banging his elbow sharply and causing pain to shoot up his arm.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, glaring down at whatever caused him to slip.

Paper?

Nobody ever used paper anymore - well, except for Jim. Sometimes he found it comforting to write poetry or draw little sketches on real paper, instead of using a padd or the computer console.

But nobody knew that...

Or at least, he didn't think that anybody knew that. At least, nobody outside of his mom and Sam.

Jim reached down, picking up the paper at his feet.

It was a sketch of him sleeping.

Jim shivered, examining the picture. It was of just him, with his eyes clothed, mouth open a bit and relaxed in sleep - but there was no background to tell Jim whether whoever drew this had actually been in his quarters while he was sleeping, or if the artist had just imagined it.

If so, the artist had a damn good imagination.

Jim shivered again, looking down and realizing that the person had slipped the paper underneath his door.

Surely if they could slip in and watch him when he was sleeping, they could get the sketch into the room without resorting to slipping it underneath his door?

And it was a good sketch - a really good sketch.

Probably-not-the-first-time-the-artist-sketched-him-sleeping sketch.

Jim clenched his hand into a fist, crumbling the picture a bit.

Then he opened his desk drawer and shoved it in - he didn't want to look at it anymore.

He was just going to take a shower and go to bed - and make sure that his room was firmly locked to anyone but himself. Maybe Chekov or Scotty would take a second look at the security programming for him...

And maybe he could get security to look at the video feed to his door for the past couple hours...it might give him a clue as to who left the picture...

*****

Jim relaxed as soon as he stepped onto the bridge. He had been on edge the past couple days, what with the mysterious whiskey appearance and the pictures pushed under his door - but whenever he stepped onto the bridge, he couldn't help but feel safe. The bridge was the heart of his ship, and he was surrounded by people he trusted with his life - Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov...

Nobody could touch him here - not with his crew there.

Jim smiled brightly at his crew before sinking down into his chair with a happy sigh. But he shifted a bit as soon as he was fully seated...he was sitting on something small and hard and uncomfortable.

Jim reached underneath him and pulled out a small metal toy car.

A perfect replica of the one he drove off a cliff at eleven.

Jim couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't react...nobody was supposed to know about that!

"Captain?" Spock questioned softly, sensing his friend's distress.

The blonde was sitting tense and perfectly still - and not breathing.

"Captain!" Spock repeated, a bit louder, walking over to the chair.

Jim snapped out of his fit, raising bright blue eyes to the Vulcan.

"Spock..." he trailed off uncertainly, showing his friend the tiny replica. "Did...do you know who left this on my chair?"

"No, Captain," Spock replied promptly.

Jim looked around the bridge, eyes begging someone to come forward.

"Did anybody see who left this in my chair?" he asked.

Chekov and Sulu shook their heads in the negative, and even Uhura looked concerned at their captain's strange behavior.

Jim jumped up, frustrated.

"Sulu, you have the conn," he ordered. "Mr. Spock, come with me."

The Vulcan followed his friend into the turbolift.

"Is something wrong, sir?" he questioned bluntly as soon as the doors closed.

"I think someone's stalking me," Jim blurted out, then he flushed in embarrassment.

He felt like such a fucking girl - a paranoid girl, to boot! He should be able to take care of himself without whining to his First Officer for protection!

But someone was stalking him, and he couldn't help but be freaked out.

"What has led you to this conclusion, Captain?" Spock asked seriously.

And that's why Jim was glad to have him as his First Officer - Spock could always calm him down with logic when Jim got restless and reckless and upset.

"I've had a bad feeling for a while - like someone's been watching me," Jim admitted. "And someone left an unsealed, unlabelled bottle of whiskey in my ready room - and it wasn't Scotty or Bones. And somebody slipped a sketch of me sleeping underneath the door to my rooms - and it was a good sketch. Someone spent a lot of time on it. And now...somebody left this car on the captain's chair."

Spock looked at him evenly.

"This is troubling, Captain," he admitted. "Does that miniature automobile have any particular significance?"

Jim shuddered in disgust, closing his bright blue eyes.

"It's a miniature replica of a car that has a hell of a lot of emotional significance," Jim admitted. "And nobody on this ship should know about it - nobody. Not even Bones."

"The video feeds from security will be helpful in ascertaining the identity of the perpetrator," Spock reassured, although he had his doubts.

Spock had tried to use the video feed to find who had left the whiskey bottle for the captain, but the files had been expertly tampered with.

Spock deduced that whoever was following his captain was a member of security, and thus was using the ship's own security against her captain.

And the Vulcan was not going to allow this to continue.

*****

Jim and Spock got off the turbolift at security, entering the high-tech survellaince area.

"Ensign Samuels," Jim greeted with a small smile. "Where is Lieutenant Michaels?"

"On break, sir," the large man responded promptly.

Jim frowned.

"And Ensign Williams? Is it not her shift, as well?" Jim questioned.

"She is with Lieutenant Michaels, sir," the ensign explained.

Spock inwardly frowned. He would have to speak with the lieutenant and the ensign. At least three crewmembers - if not more - should be monitoring the video feed at all times.

"Well, I suppose you can assist us then, Ensign Samuels?" Jim asked - but it was really more of an order.

Jim just wasn't in the mood to be polite right now.

"Of course, Captain," the ensign replied eagerly. "Anything you need."

"Thank you, Ensign," the captain stated. "I want to know who left this toy car on my captain's chair in-between shifts without any of my bridge crew noticing."

The ensign nodded enthusiastically, sitting down and pulling up the current video feed.

"Let me just rewind this, sir," he explained. "I didn't notice anything in the past few minutes, but my shift changed with yours. And the last rotation didn't make note of anything unusual happening on the bridge. We don't monitor those cameras too firmly though - it's kind of hard to slip anything past the bridge crew."

Jim nodded tensely, watching as the video was rewinded. He frowned when nothing unusual showed up. Just Spock getting out of the chair and going to the science station a few minutes before the change in shift.

But it didn't show anyone placing the car down, so how did it get there?

"Nothing, sir," Ensign Samuels said apologetically. "Except for Commander Spock, nobody was even near the chair before you sat in it."

"Well, Commander Spock certainly didn't put it there," Jim frowned. "Can you copy the feed so we can examine it more closely?"

The ensign nodded, copying the feed onto a datachip and handing it to his captain.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" the large man asked.

"Permission granted," Jim affirmed.

"What is so important about a little toy car?" the man questioned.

Jim smiled tightly.

"That is exactly what everyone should be thinking - unless they have information that they shouldn't have. Don't worry yourself, ensign," Jim replied.

And with that, the captain and first officer left security.

They had video feed to examine more closely.

*****

Jim and Spock sat in the captain's compute console, examining the video feed.

"May I, Captain?" Spock asked as they played it for the third time.

Jim turned the controls over to his First Officer, who zoomed to a view of the science station and then played the feed in slow motion.

There was a jump, where a bunch of numbers and letters just appeared.

"It appears as if the video between these two slides was tampered with, Captain," Spock pointed out the obvious, jumping between the two again. "According to my calculations, three minutes and twenty seconds of video feed was removed."

"But...how is that possible? We got to security just a few minutes after this occurred. Very few people had access to this feed," Jim pointed out.

The Captain stopped dead for a second, then turned to Spock with wide eyes.

"Ensign Samuels," he whispered thickly.

"Captain, this is a serious accusation. What makes you insist that he is the culprit?" Spock questioned logically.

"He gave me a bad feeling from the moment I met him! And then he kept track of the number of times I won in our chess games! And he has access to the video feeds to tamper with them immediately, especially since Lieutenant Michaels and Ensign Williams were on break. And he could have possibly gotten into my quarters with security clearance, if he's talented at overriding programming," Jim continued, jumping up and listing a bunch of little things that had been bothering him, all of which the ensign would have the opportunity to do.

"And my gym towel went missing! And that half-eaten apple that just disappeared! And, god, the tissues I was using the other day were gone from my wastebasket, even though everything else was still in there!" Jim finished, panting in excitement.

A slow clap filled the ready room, as Ensign Samuels walked in and the door shut behind him.

"You are so brilliant, my James," the large man declared zealously. "It is no wonder that I love you so."

Jim stumbled back a bit, his back bumping into Spock's warm chest.

"Love does not explain your illogical actions," Spock replied bitingly. "You have caused the captain great distress."

The ensign turned dark eyes to Jim just as Spock insinuated himself between the two humans.

"I just wanted you to notice me! You never noticed me! Not in Iowa, not during the Academy, not ever! I love you so much, but you just keep wasting your affections and your body with everyone else. They don't deserve you like I do!" the man growled angrily.

"In Iowa?" Jim asked uncertainly, hands fisting in Spock's uniform shirt as he allowed his First Officer to stand between himself and his crazy psycho stalker who stole his sweaty towels and snotty tissues and drew pictures of him while he slept.

Jim might be brave, but he wasn't batshit crazy enough to protest Spock's protection.

"We went to school together, don't you remember, James?" the man asked in a hurt tone of voice.

Jim really, really didn't remember, but Samuels didn't wait for him to reply.

"You smiled at me, once," the ensign continued dreamily - crazily. "You were so beautiful - you still are. Beautiful and brave and sexy and...god, you should see yourself in the shower."

Jim's mouth was dry, and he couldn't seem to swallow, and he had never felt so violated in his life.

"Or when you're sleeping...you look so innocent. Like an angel, my James," Samuels sighed. "I couldn't help but draw you. Ever since I was young. I want to show you my sketch book. There's thousands of sketches of you in my shrine. Sketches and photographs and holovids and newspaper articles and anything I could get my hands on that you got your hands on first. The steering wheel to your father's car that you drove off that cliff when you were eleven? That's my favorite souvenir. But I like the underwear and the clothes a lot too - and that gym towel of yours. It smells like your sweat. Or it did, before I added some of my own fluids to it. Now it just smells like us, my James."

Jim felt dizzy as the ensign continued ranting on and on. This man had knew him when Jim was a child - but Ensign Samuels was a few years older than him, so when Jim was eleven the man had to have been at least sixteen.

God...he had probably joined Starfleet after Jim did - because Jim did.

And then transferred to the Enterprise when given the chance.

Jim thought he was going to be sick.


	3. Chapter 3 of 3

Spock could not just stand there as Ensign Samuels continued to illogically rant and rave and cause his captain further distress.

So he did the only logical thing, and moved forward to perform a Vulcan Nerve Pinch.

But the man must have anticipated Spock's actions, as he quickly whipped a phaser from his belt.

"Don't move," he said lowly. "Or I'll shoot. And it's not on stun. I'm not going to let you stand between me and my James."

Jim swallowed thickly, looking from the phaser to Spock's still form.

"Don't shoot him," he requested softly, drawing the ensigns attention back to him easily. "What do you want?"

Samuels looked at him lustily, licking his lips.

"Take your shirt off," he demanded.

Jim closed his eyes and swallowed heavily before letting his hands fall to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head in one smooth movement.

"And your undershirt," the ensign encouraged.

Jim managed to hold back the tears as he pulled the black undershirt over his head as well, exposing his chest to the cool air of his ready room.

He would never be able to work in here again without remember this violation.

"Come here," Ensign Samuels demanded. "But take your boots off first."

Jim bent down, untying his boots slowly as to delay the inevitable. He did not want to feel this man's large slimy hands on his body.

But he couldn't stop it - neither he nor Spock carried phasers in the supposed safety of their ship.

That would have to change if they survived this.

If.

*****

"Hurry up," Samuels barked, emphasizing the order with a shake of the phaser in Spock's direction.

Jim quickly stepped out of his boots and headed towards the man, though every molecule in his body was demanding that he run the other way.

But there was nowhere to run. Spock was held at phaser point, and Samuels was between Jim and the door.

"Let him go," Jim asked softly. "You don't need him here for this."

"If I let him go, he'll go get help," Samuel replied firmly. "So either he stays here, like this - or I kill him. Your choice."

"You know I don't want you to kill him," Jim said. "He's my friend."

The man growled at him, slipping a large arm around Jim's trim waist and pulling the blonde flush against his broad chest.

"You don't need friends," he declared angrily. "You don't need anybody but me. They'll all just hurt you and try to take you away from me. We belong together, my James. Forever."

Jim couldn't help but stiffen as the man's hand dropped from his lower back to grope his ass.

"Not in front of Spock," he begged. "I'll do whatever you want - just let Spock go first."

Dark eyes turned to examine him angrily.

"You like exhibitionism - it turns you on," Samuels stated matter-of-factly. "And you like it when your male lovers get a little rough with you. Biting and pinching and such. So why do you want Spock to go away?"

"He's my First Officer. I try to keep sex away from work," Jim explained softly, desperate for an excuse to get Spock safely out of there so he could get help.

Samuels nodded like Jim's explanation made sense.

"Yes, you are a very good captain. Very professional," the ensign complimented. "You wouldn't want to lose his respect. Vulcans - they think sex is illogical, I'm sure. Especially between two men. We wouldn't want to taint our first time with his disdainful presence."

Jim nodded desperately in agreement, and Samuels leaned down to take his lips in a rough, possessive kiss - all teeth and tongue and slimy spit.

Jim never wanted to throw up more than he did in those few seconds that stretched out into eternity.

Spock logically took advantage of Ensign Samuels distraction to leap forward and perform a nerve pinch. The man dropped to the ground heavily, hitting his head with a loud thud.

But Spock was unconcerned as to the man's medical state - his only concern at the moment was his captain, who had dropped to his knees and was retching violently.

Spock vindictively (illogically) hoped that the captain's vomit would land on the ensign.

Although perhaps the disturbed man would like that too much - he did not deserve to have even the captain's vomit anywhere near his person.

"Captain..." Spock trailed off uncertainly as Jim continued to retch, a tear or two escaping each tightly-closed eye.

After a few moments, the blonde stopped heaving and just knelt there, panting heavily.

"I'm sorry, Spock," Jim apologized, embarrassed at his display of weakness.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Jim," Spock replied softly - seriously.

And the use of his first name let Jim know that Spock was not talking as just his First Officer, but also as his friend.

He had never been more grateful to hear his nickname in all his life - and he was very glad that Spock had not called him 'James'.

He would probably never be able to hear that name again without shuddering in disgust.

A soft touch on his shoulder snapped Jim out of his thoughts, and he turned surprised blue eyes to his First Officer.

It was the first time Spock had ever initiated contact between them.

"You are not at fault, Captain," Spock stated seriously - again back to the 'Captain' - but Jim was reassured.

Spock would make everything better again.

*****

Jim quickly put his shirts and boots back on as Spock contacted security - and Bones.

God, was Jim grateful for that - he needed Bones right now.

Security was there in seconds - Cupcake among them.

They took in their ruffled captain and the carefully-concealed fury in their first officer's expression and the dropped ensign, and they quickly and efficiently restrained Samuels and threw him in the brig without question.

Bones showed up just as security carted Jim's crazy, obsessed stalker out.

"That him?" Bones asked Spock quietly as he walked towards his best friend.

Spock gave a quick nod before slipping out the door.

It was time for comfort - and Doctor McCoy could handle the captain's emotions better than he ever could. But, just in case...

"I shall be on the bridge if you need my assistance, Captain," Spock reassured him quietly, letting him know that the Enterprise would be taken care of for however long Jim needed.

Jim knew he could count on Spock.

"What happened, kid?" Bones asked softly as soon as Spock left.

"Can we...can we go somewhere else?" Jim pleaded, big blue vulnerable eyes turning to his best friend.

Bones had never been able to resist those eyes - and considering Bones's weakness to those eyes had helped save the galaxy, these days he barely even tried.

And he wasn't going to start now.

"Course we can, kid. Your quarters or mine?" Bones questioned.

Jim thought about the sketches of his sleeping face tucked away in his desk drawer and shuddered.

"Yours," he whispered.

"C'mon," Bones encouraged, gently grabbing Jim's hand and pulling him to the door, stopping just before it opened.

"Think you can put your 'captain face' on for a few minutes, Jim?" the doctor asked seriously, knowing that his friend would not want the crew to see him so vulnerable.

Spock seeing it was one thing, Bones seeing it another - but the crew was only allowed to see the infallible, unbeatable Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

Not the scared little Jimmy who just needed some comfort from his best friend.

So Jim managed to collect himself just long enough to get back to Bones's quarters.

And then he fell apart.

Thankfully, Bones was there to catch him.

"It's okay, Jim," the doctor whispered comfortingly, rubbing his best friend's back.

"I'm sorry," Jim gasped past his sobs. "I'm sorry. I should be stronger than this. I should be...I should be better than this."

"Jim..." Bones trailed off. "You're the strongest, best man I know. But it's okay to lean on someone else sometimes."

Jim just shook his head desperately, burying his face in Bones's strong shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bones asked after Jim's sobs quieted a bit.

"He said...he said we went to school together," Jim admitted softly. "He admitted to stalking me way back when I was eleven."

"Jim, he's at least five years older than you. How would he have known you when you were eleven and he was sixteen or seventeen?" Bones questioned softly, trying to get Jim to keep talking.

"I skipped a few grades when I was younger. I was in ninth grade when I was eleven. He was probably in high school too. He might have even been Sam's friend. I don't know," Jim mumbled.

Bones hummed encouragingly.

"He said...he said I smiled at him. And that we belonged together. And he admitted to having a shrine to me," Jim babbled. "We'll have to go through his room. It's probably in there. He stole my tissues and my clothes, and he...he jerked off with my sweaty gym towel. He said that he made it smell like us."

Bones couldn't help but tighten his arms around his best friend, as if that would protect him from the universe that seemed to have it out for him.

"None of this was your fault, Jim," Bones reassured, because he could see the uncertainty in every line of Jim's body.

"Maybe I encouraged him somehow..." Jim whispered softly.

Bones brought a hand up to Jim's chin and forced those blue eyes to look at him.

"None of this is your fault. None. You got that? Samuels is a fucking psycho, and you didn't even fucking know that he was interested in you. Nothing you did or didn't do would have made a difference," Bones growled.

Jim looked at him with wide eyes.

"You didn't drink that whiskey I left in sickbay, did you?" he asked uncomfortably after a few moments of silence passed. "We should probably get it tested. I'd bet money that he put something in it."

Bones couldn't help but tense at that - and Jim, being flush against him, couldn't help but notice.

"You already got it tested?" Jim asked.

"I went to Spock right after you left sickbay," Bones admitted.

A few seconds passed.

"So..?" Jim trailed off. "What was in it?"

Bones looked him straight in the eye.

"GHB," he admitted softly. "Enough to kill you, if you had more than a few ounces. Especially with your constitution."

Jim swallowed heavily, closing his eyes.

"Good thing I decided to split it with Scotty and not with you that night, then. Because if I had just assumed that it was from him..." Jim trailed off.

Bones didn't want to think about that - he knew they'd probably both be dead.

Because the only person that he would have trusted to save Jim from an overdose of GHB would be him - but he would have been affected as well.

"It didn't happen," Bones stated firmly - to reassure both Jim and himself. "And now Samuels is in the brig, and we'll drop him off at the next starbase to be tried for his crimes."

Jim nodded heavily.

"Can I...can I sleep here tonight?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," Bones murmured comfortingly into blond hair.

"Sweetheart?" Jim teased sleepily, wrapping his arms around the doctor's neck.

"Just slipped out," Bones defended, lifting Jim onto the bed and laying down with him. "Go to sleep."

And Jim did, clothes and all.

Bones couldn't help but smile fondly, and take off his boots, belt, slacks, and gold command shirt, leaving him in his black undershirt and briefs. The last thing he wanted right now was for Jim to be uncomfortable.

The door chime woke Bones some hours later, but Jim slept through it. Bones gently detangled himself from his best friend's arms, smiling affectionately as Jim frowned cutely in his sleep and reached for the missing warmth.

"Be right back," he whispered softly, brushing a gentle hand through blond hair before getting the door - after checking to see that it was Spock.

"Doctor, the captain was not in his quarters..." the Vulcan began worriedly - or as worriedly as a Vulcan can be - before Bones stepped aside and let him see Jim sleeping soundly in the bed.

"He didn't want to talk in the ready room, and he didn't want to go back to his room," Bones explained.

Spock nodded his understanding.

"Tell the captain that I shall report in the morning," Spock requested stiffly, turning to go.

"Come inside, you pointy-eared bastard," Bones insulted fondly. "Jim needs you right now just as much as he needs me."

Spock looked at the doctor intently before stepping into the room.

The Vulcan and the human stood across from each other stiffly, both drawn to the blonde on the bed but both unwilling to make the first move.

At least, until Jim stirred, raising his head from the pillow.

"Bones?" he murmured vulnerably. "Bones?"

"Shh, Jim," the doctor hushed, hurrying over to his best friend. "I'm here."

"And Spock?" Jim slurred sleepily.

"I am present as well, Captain," the Vulcan responded.

"Tha's good," the blonde said. "You make me feel safe."

Spock watched with wide brown eyes as his captain and friend grabbed his hand and tugged, pulling Spock onto the bed - willingly, of course.

Jim would not have been able to move Spock, had Spock not been willing.

"Talk again in the morning," Jim muttered, pulling Bones down to join them.

The doctor snuggled close to his best friend, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

"Take your uniform off and join us," he invited the Vulcan, still smiling fondly down at the blond head resting on his chest. "Jim will be happier for it in the morning."

That was all Spock needed to slip out of everything but his undershirt and briefs before sliding underneath the covers.

"Mmm...warm," Jim murmured in his sleep.

Spock and Bones met eyes over the sleeping form of their captain, and they did not need telepathy to convey their mutual love for their friend.

They would help him through this - together.


End file.
